Chapter Ten #3
“I don’t need that,” I said. I could see the storm in his eyes. “Deacon, look at me.” His eyes fluttered before he held my gaze. “I don’t need that. I don’t expect that from you. At all.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” Then I remembered what he’d said. “You said you want to hold my hand but you’re not ready.
So if it’s something you want to work up to, I’m okay with that.
I’m happy to wait until whenever you’re ready.
We can work up to that if you want, or not at all.
Okay? All I need from you is honesty. Nothing more.
And I think once we’ve learned to trust each other, the rest will be easy. ”
His eyes searched mine before he blinked a few times. We were standing close, I was still holding his jacket, and I don’t know if he was even aware, but I let it go.
“I am honest,” he said.
“I know you are. It’s why I like you. And the fact that you love to read, and you send me poems.”
His smile was shy, those cherry blossom colored cheeks making my heart squeeze.
“And you’re very handsome,” I added.
He laughed then and shook his head. “No, I’m not. But you are.”
We both stood there, smiling like a pair of Cheshire cats, and I felt so much better about everything.
“Between you and me,” I said, “I think we have overthinking and over-worrying down to a fine art.”
Deacon smiled. “I get in my head a lot.”
“That’s okay. I do that too. But if you have any questions, about anything, we can just ask each other, right?”
“Right.”
“And saying no to some things is perfectly okay. It doesn’t mean we don’t like each other.”
He nodded again.
I inhaled the crisp, cold air and let out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad we talked.”
“Me too.”
“And I will be honest with you too, just so you know.”
He nodded and ducked his head. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for bringing me lunch today.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do I need to bring anything on Sunday for dinner?”
He shook his head. “No, of course not.”
“So, in light of the whole honesty and transparency thing,” I said, “Gunter invited us for pizza on Tuesday or Wednesday night next week. He said there’d probably be six or so people there.
I said I’d probably go, though I wasn’t sure what you were doing so I told him I’d ask.
It’s totally up to you if you wanted to come or not. ”
He blinked. “Uh . . .”
“You can think about it,” I said, playing it down. “No pressure at all.”
He was quiet for a moment, his nose pink from the cold. “I will,” he said. “Think about it, that is. Social scenarios are not my forte.”
“Nor mine, to be honest,” I said. “But they’re a little queer group and I love that they’re all such good friends.
They’ve been very welcoming, which has been great, especially in a town as small as Hartbridge, so I figured I should make the effort to join in.
If you did want to go, we could tell them it’d be a quick visit because we had somewhere else to be afterward.
Like we’re dipping our toes in to test the water. ”
“Like an escape plan.”
I laughed. “Exactly.”
He smiled but didn’t say anything else about it. Now that I’d mentioned it, maybe he could take his time to mull it over and get used to the idea. I know I certainly appreciated fair warning for social outings.
“Oh, that reminds me,” I said, just remembering.
“On opening day, I had some customers suggest starting up a little book club where we could meet once a month, maybe serve some coffee and cake, and talk about all the great books we’ve been reading.
Isn’t that the greatest idea? It would get them back into the store every month.
Maybe I could do book club discounts to entice people to join.
I could get some chairs from somewhere and we could just sit around all the books and chat. What do you think?”
His brow furrowed and he gave a nod. “I think . . . I think that sounds like a good idea. Return customers are important. Though I’d be concerned about having cake in the store, especially if they’re touching books.”
I grinned at him. “That’s a very valid point. I didn’t think of that.”
He smiled, happy that he’d been the one to point it out, I think. “You could do a bite-sized treat with a toothpick in each one so they held that instead of the greasy or sticky part.”
I gasped. “That’s brilliant, yes!” I nudged his arm with the back of my hand. “So glad I asked you.”
Only then did I realize what I’d done.
Without thinking.
I’d touched him . . .
I pulled my hands back. “Shoot, sorry. I didn’t mean that. I was just excited and didn’t think—”
He surprised me by grinning. “It’s fine, Winter. That’s actually the third time you’ve touched me without even realizing.” His cheeks flushed dark pink. “I think I know to expect it now.”
“Third time?” Well, that was horrifying. Because I didn’t know. I wasn’t even aware. “I don’t mean to. Actually, I’m not even aware I do it.”
“I know. I think that’s why it doesn’t bother me as much.
It’s always a quick, gentle touch, never a grab or a push.
” His eyes met mine in that intense burning way.
“You get excited and it’s habit for you.
Plus, I’m wearing three layers.” He held out his arm.
“And you’re wearing gloves. I barely even felt it. ”
I must have turned a dozen shades of horrified. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. Three times?”
He nodded, still smiling, still blushing. “I’ve been counting.”
Well, that was kinda cute that he’d been keeping count. But not really that he had to.
“Well, I am sorry. Maybe I should shove my hands in my pockets.” I did exactly that. “See? Now I can’t do it.”
Deacon laughed. “It’s okay. I’d rather you didn’t censor yourself. You get animated and excited when you talk about something you like, and it makes me happy when you do that, so I don’t mind. Like I said, I think I’m used to it now.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was very sweet and cute, and oh boy, if it didn’t make my heart swell.
He checked his watch. “I need to go back to work now.”
“Okay. Same, probably.” We headed back toward the store, and just as we were at the door, a customer came out, a sales bag in hand.
Deacon grabbed the door for them. “Oh, hello, Deacon,” the customer said cheerfully. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Hadlow,” he replied.
“You have a merry Christmas,” she said. “Tell your parents I said the same to them.”
“I will. Merry Christmas to you too.”
She gave me a bright smile before going on her way, and then Deacon held the door for me. I stepped inside, giving him a polite nod. “Why, thank you, kind sir.” He grinned and my heart skipped a beat. “I’ll call you later tonight,” I added.
“Okay.” He closed the door and disappeared down the sidewalk, and I turned around, leaning against the door with a dreamy sigh.
Ro was standing behind the service counter, watching me with a smirk. “I take it that went well.”
I did a little excited wiggle. “Swoony, dreamy, happy—”
“Okay, Snow White,” she said, waving me in. “You’re blocking the door.”
I laughed as I walked over. “Oh, Ro. I really like him.”
She patted my hand. “I know you do.”
I pulled off my coat and gloves and went to hang them up in the storeroom. Merry and Bright were still sleeping soundly, so I tiptoed outta there and closed the door and got back to work. “Okay, now where was I up to . . .”
Sunday couldn’t come fast enough.
Yes, work was super busy and I had a whole bunch of admin to take care of and teething problems to adjust to.
And speaking of teething problems, Bright had definitely found his chompers.
Little rascal of a thing would try and attack anything that moved, chomping anything he could get his mouth around.
Both kittens were growing so well and becoming more active and playful.
Which, of course, meant cuter and funnier.
I loved them with my whole entire heart.
They weren’t at all what I’d expected to occupy my time with. When we’d moved here, I had no intention of getting a cat, or any pet for that matter, let alone two very young kittens.
And even though the timing wasn’t great with the new store, and they were an inconvenience at work, I couldn’t imagine my life without them.
Except for the biting and whenever Bright went into gremlin mode.
It was, however, a great excuse to text Deacon.
How do I get a kitten to stop trying to murder me?
I assume you’re referring to Bright.
Correct. He’s a menace.
A cute menace, and a menace I adore, but a menace all the same.
He’ll grow out of it.
Grow out of it? How long must we endure this gremlin mode?
A year, perhaps.
A YEAR???? Nooooooooo
You can get him toys and activities to focus on
Okay, great idea. Will google ideas. Thank youuu!
And sending Deacon pictures of Merry and Bright was also a great excuse to text as well. When they were being extra cute. And short videos of when they were playing and being funny.
He’d reply with pics of their dog, Mildred.
It was fun and sweet. There was no pressure, no stress. Just cute animals and smiles.
What was not to like about that?
I had called him on Friday night when I got home.
We’d ended up talking for a long while, about books and movies.
He loved The Wizard of Oz, even though the wicked witch and her flying monkeys had scared him as a boy.
He never did understand old Elvis movies, even though his mom loved them.
He loved DC comics and Marvel movies, and even though he loved history books and documentaries, he hated war movies—refused to watch them—even though his dad enjoyed them.
I told him I was a sucker for black-and-white romance movies, circa the 1940s with Humphrey Bogart, Rita Hayworth, Cary Grant, and Katharine Hepburn.
He preferred chocolate cake over vanilla, and his favorite candy was peanut M&Ms.
He wore polar fleece sweaters and not the knitted kind because knits clung to him and the texture was wrong, and he couldn’t stand how they felt on his skin.